


The Smell of Fire

by amaradangeli



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 17:56:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9618734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaradangeli/pseuds/amaradangeli
Summary: Plausible deniability.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Art by A. Karswyll

Plausible deniability.  

That's the only way she can explain curtailing their activities in the dark parking lot of an empty bar. Technically, she's never fucked him. Though, it isn't like the frat regs care much about technicalities. And, technically, they'd already broken the frat regs many times over.  

After the episode at the bar, she's proud of him. He doesn't treat her any differently and if his eyes are a little more knowing than they were before he left last time, that's probably okay. If the next time he calls her they don't even venture near the _good stuff,_ that's okay too. If all of a sudden it seems like the edge has been taken off, well, that's probably also okay. Except...  

She misses the way it felt when they were all sharp edges and the smell of fire.  

At first they don't talk about it -- what happened at the bar. That's fine, because she doesn't have much to say on the subject. He needed it, hell, she probably needed it, so they did it. But it hurts a little because it feels like cheating. She didn't get to touch him, not the way she wanted to. And he didn't touch her the way she really wanted. It was quick and dirty and delicious at the time but, like expensive, two-bite desserts, wholly unsatisfying. 

It left her burning for him, for the next time, for the time when she'd make him take her clothes off piece by piece, not necessarily slowly but definitely deliberately.  His mouth on her breast had been incredible, the man knew exactly what to do with his teeth, but the idea that she could feel the same thing with no cloth between them kept her up nights. She thinks about his hands and the way he'd possessed whatever part of her body he'd touched. She thinks of his cock, that hard column of flesh she'd only gotten a hint of, a whiff of, like that damned expensive dessert, just enough to whet her appetite. The whole encounter left her on edge. 

She didn't hide it during their second private conversation after it happened, not like she had during their first when they, for the first time, talked to each other like friends or something more instead of doing their best impersonation of a paid-for-conversation. No, during their second phone call she told him she wasn't done with him and that what he pulled in the parking lot wasn't going to cut it again. The next time he physically made her come was going to be the time they didn't have to hold back. 

She'd told him once that if he'd just finish the missions and come home for good she'd give him what he wanted. It wasn't about holding back, it was about incentive. He was a good man with some dark corners and she wanted to make sure he came back okay.  

She knows there are more missions coming, she even knows how many remain. She has a strong suspicion she knows what he is out there doing, but she'll never say. And neither will he. He takes his duty far too seriously. He takes most things, despite his irreverence, far too seriously. But she isn't complaining because, as it turns out, she is one of the things he takes seriously. And the way she feels when he just _talks_  to her tells her she is busy taking things far too seriously, too. 

The solidarity makes everything feel so much more immediate. No, she can't wait until they throw the towel in on the regs for good, but she sure is enjoying everything as it happens. No one had ever made her feel the way he is able to make her feel, just with the caress of his voice.  

Sometimes, when she starts wanting too much, she'll think back to how it all started – a road trip and flirting with the speed limit as much as with each other. She remembers waking up in his house before it got too dangerous to spend those nights in proximity to him. 

There's an emotional element to the thing happening between them that all too frequently gets buried in the physical. The fact that she's the one he's running to when his demons chase him is not lost on her as something major. The fact that he chooses to pile pleasure on top of the pain isn't surprising, either. She suspects that is his MO. It's been cigarettes, alcohol and now, it's her. And she's thankful he's found a less abusing way to soothe his soul – even if she, even if all of it, has the potential to ruin his career. 

But she doesn't feel that way about it, generally. She doesn't often think of the ramifications of their actions and, when she does think about it, she finds her general lack of concern worrying. But she figures, some things, some people, are worth the risk. And, if ever there was somebody worth the risk, she's pretty sure it's him. 

She's not sure why now. Why it took the extra missions to help her cede her control. There were so many times over the years that she wanted to reach for him but there is something undeniably different about him going off to save the world without her. It makes her want to be steady for him. It makes her want to be whatever he needs. Because she knows that the things that remind him of his pre-Stargate days take a toll. And she knows, even without him saying so, that these things remind him. 

So maybe she does miss the sharp edges a little, but she also likes being _home_ for him. She's never actually been home for anyone before and she likes the little thrill it gives her – knowing that she's what brings him back from the dark. Things may have changed but she knows the fire is still burning, that he's reaching for her after ever turn and soon, very soon, he'll be able to reach out and touch her. 

 


End file.
